Love Inspired Historical April 2014 Bundle: The Husband CampaignThe Preacher's Bride ClaimThe Soldier's SecretsWyoming Promises

by Regina Scott

  “Hear, hear,” Kensington said, playing the seven.

  Caro’s smile seemed to be pasted to her face. “Do you hear them, Amelia? One moment you are elegance defined, and now you are merely kind. How is one to counter such faint praise?”

  “I don’t find it faint,” Amelia said as John played on the trick. “I’m honored if my efforts are seen as kind.”

  “Pshaw,” Caro replied with a wave of her cards that was not lost on the savvy Kensington. “I would far rather be known for my dash and daring.”

  “I fear dash and daring are not my long suit,” Amelia said, but she set the king of diamonds down on top of the trick and gently pulled it in.

  John smiled to himself. His Amelia might never be known for her daring, but he could only be thankful. A more daring miss would never have been willing to marry him.

  They continued playing for another hour. If he had been a man set on winning, he might have been pleased with his partner. Despite her protests, Caro played brilliantly. She seemed to know which cards to lay down and which to save for greatest impact. And her steady stream of conversation probably masked her concentration to people who did not know her well.

  Amelia, on the other hand, was more obvious in her efforts, studying her cards, biting her soft pink lips when she was unsure which to play. If she was pleased with her hand, her lovely face brightened. If dismayed, she frowned and scrunched her nose. Major Kensington did his best to make up for her gaffes and pronounced her the perfect partner even when they lost by a rubber.

  Still, John could not go up to bed without having a word with his wife first. He managed to pull Amelia aside as Caro and the major made their excuses and headed upstairs.

  “Thank you for managing things today,” he started. “Especially when this entire visit must be distressing to you.”

  She glanced up the stairs as if to make sure their guests were out of earshot, then returned her clear gaze to his. “Do I appear distressed?”

  Her face was flushed a pleasing pink, and she stood perfectly poised beside him. “Not in the slightest,” John assured her. “But you’d have reason to be. I did not invite her, Amelia, but as she is my sister-in-law, I can hardly deny her access to a family property.”

  “Of course,” Amelia said. “Society decrees her family, and we should treat her as such. You need not concern yourself. I am quite capable of dealing with a fortnight’s house party.”

  John grimaced. “Hardly a house party.”

  Amelia spread her hands. “It appears to be why they came. I know she teased you that you would not have to entertain her, but that is generally what is expected of such a visit.”

  “Heaven help us,” John murmured, feeling as if someone had forced a stone down his throat.

  Amelia smiled at him. “Prayer would not be remiss, sir. However, I think we can keep them sufficiently busy. Tomorrow morning, we can show them the farm, perhaps take a ride afterward. I’ll write to Lady Bellington and see if we can arrange a visit for the next day.”

  “That should frighten Caro out of the area,” John predicted.

  Amelia shook her head, smile turning wry. “Such was not my intent. And we can tour the Rotherford mine, attempt fishing on the Bell, perhaps climb Calder Edge. There are many ways to keep them occupied, my lord. I shall try not to interrupt your routine overly much.”

  *

  John had every confidence in Amelia, but as it turned out, his normal routine was interrupted the very next morning. He’d thought he’d have a few moments alone when he came down to breakfast just after dawn. However, Major Kensington was waiting for him in the dining room, cup of tea in one large hand.

  “Ah, another early riser,” he exclaimed as John poured himself a cup.

  John cast him a glance. He had changed out of his dress uniform for the uniform of a London gentleman—navy coat and buff trousers. The more casual dress made him no less a figure of legend. Small wonder Caro claimed the ladies swooned over him.

  “And had you a purpose for getting up so early?” John asked as he sat across the table from the man. “I thought this was a social visit.”

  “Oh, it is,” Kensington assured him. “But I was in the habit of rising early on campaign. I never accustomed myself otherwise. Don’t allow me to inconvenience you.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” John replied.

  They sipped in silence for a time.

  “I did mean to say,” the major put in, “that I admire the way you supported Lady Hascot in her time of need.”

  John frowned at him. Was he talking about Amelia? Had Amelia’s father broken his promise and shared the reason they had wed? Why?

  “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

  “A widow of a previous titleholder can have a rough time of it,” Kensington replied. “Your support allows her to maintain her place in Society.”

  That Lady Hascot. Why had John forgotten that title was forever Caro’s?

  “You are mistaken,” John told him. “No extra support was necessary. My brother had funds at his disposal, and he left his wife well provided for.”

  The major lowered his gaze. “I’m sure that was a great comfort to Lady Hascot.”

  By the smile John caught before the fellow lifted the cup to his lips, it seemed to be a great comfort to the major, as well. Had he been trying to determine the state of Caro’s finances? Was he a fortune hunter? It wasn’t unknown for a handsome man with empty pockets to prey upon a helpless widow.

  John nearly snorted aloud. Caro? Helpless? If the major thought to hoodwink her, John pitied the man. Caro was perfectly capable of looking out for her own best interests. She’d proved that by choosing James over him.

  Fletcher came in just then, and Major Kensington excused himself. The veterinarian watched him go, then sat beside John and leaned closer.

  “I don’t like him,” he confided.

  That was a strong statement for the soft-spoken veterinarian. “Why?” John challenged. “He seems to be going out of his way to be friendly.”

  “Perhaps too friendly, by your leave.” Fletcher hitched himself closer to the table and reached for the pot of tea to pour himself a cup. “I do not approve of the way he treats your Lady Hascot.”

  John shook his head. “Neither do I. But I understand some women appreciate compliments.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with praising beauty or accomplishment,” Fletcher agreed. “Unless it is for the sole purpose of gaining favor. You asked for my opinion on his character, my lord, and I would say both your guests are here for some purpose other than making your wife’s acquaintance.”

  John could not argue with him there. But he didn’t like his chances of ferreting out the true reason for their visit simply by watching them further. His best approach to surviving the next few days was to keep his attentions focused on his responsibilities: Amelia and his horses.

  And he was a little surprised to realize it truly was in that order.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Amelia had plenty of time that morning to send a note to Lady Bellington and make other arrangements for their guests’ entertainment, for John and Major Kensington were already out in the stables when she came down to breakfast, and Caro was still abed.

  “Fashionable ladies sleep late,” Turner advised Amelia as she tidied the bedchamber. “And Lady Hascot is terribly fashionable. She has an entire gown made from gold muslin. I saw it.”

  Amelia had never purchased anything even trimmed with the costly material. “She goes about far more in Society than I do,” she told the maid.

  “Doesn’t mean you can’t dress as well,” Turner countered. She peered at Amelia through the corners of her eyes as if unsure of her mistress’s reaction. “His lordship might like a bit more dash.”

  “Then his lordship shouldn’t have married me,” Amelia replied.

  Apparently her maid realized she’d spoken out of turn, for she said no more on the subject.

  Amelia knew she sho
uld remain available for her guest, so she kept herself busy that morning, checking on Firenza, making suggestions on a change in training and debating with Dr. Fletcher if the mare might not be eating properly. Caro did not venture downstairs until noon. Amelia was certain that she personally would be pale and cross for having slept so late. Caro, of course, was all sparkling joy as she took tea with Amelia in the withdrawing room.

  “However do you do it?” she asked Amelia, glancing about the room with a wrinkle of her nose as if she found the space lacking. “I think I would perish so far from London Society.”

  “I like it here,” Amelia confessed, rearranging her muslin skirts on the polished wood chair. “John’s horses are surprisingly good company.”

  Caro laughed. “Oh, you are perfect for him! I have never heard anyone but him speak so fondly about their animals.”

  Amelia decided to take that as a compliment. “He has reason to be proud of them. He raises them from birth, watches them from the moment they take their first halting steps until they clear every obstacle in the field at a gallop.”

  Caro raised her tea cup. “May he show as great an interest in your two-footed children.”

  Amelia tried to hide her blush behind her cup, but Caro lowered hers and leaned closer. “My dear Amelia, have I discomposed you? It cannot be that you are increasing so soon. I know there was scandal when you wed John, but I never dreamed…”

  “No!” Amelia’s head jerked up. “You are mistaken. John and I never, that is, we didn’t… What do you mean by scandal?”

  Caro leaned back, brows arched. “Why, everyone in London knows you spent the night with him in his stable.”

  Amelia felt ill. How had the story spread? She certainly had never told a soul about that night. It didn’t seem to matter that she was innocent, that John had been a gentleman. Everyone assumed the worst.

  You know the truth, Father. That should be all that matters.

  Her concerns must have been evident, however, for Caro set down her cup and reached out to pat Amelia’s hand.

  “There now,” she said, face and voice commiserating. “You mustn’t mind the gossip. Why, I’ve grown quite used to such things by now. It is simply the way London works.” She trilled a laugh that Amelia could not find in the least comforting. “And when the heir arrives a good eleven months after the wedding, all rumors will be silenced.”

  Amelia had always believed in facing adversity with a smile, but she could not force her lips to curve upward. Caro’s smile faded.

  “Unless you meant… No, it cannot be.” She dropped her voice. “Amelia, haven’t you consummated the marriage?”

  Amelia could not meet her gaze. “Forgive me, Lady Hascot, but I am unaccustomed to such frank conversation.”

  She heard the rustle of Caro’s muslin gown as she must have straightened. “No, forgive me. Our friendship is much too new for me to so presume upon it. And what a sweet way to remind me of my manners. I’ve met your mother on occasion, and I’m sure she’d have told me to mind my own affairs and made the lecture an object lesson at the same time.”

  At last her smile fought through. “Yes, she is quite good at that.”

  “I imagine it must have been challenging growing up in such an environment,” Caro said, sobering. “I can understand. My own family life was not happy. My father drank a great deal, and we never seemed to have the funds to cover what was needed to maintain our places in Society. Happily, you will have no such problems with John.”

  Indeed. Amelia could not imagine John losing control enough to allow himself to become inebriated. And despite their former butler’s allegations, her husband had been quite accommodating when it came to funding anything she suggested.

  “I don’t expect to mix much in Society,” Amelia admitted. “My place is here, with my husband.”

  Caro puffed out a sigh. “I fear your post will be a lonely one. You must know that when it comes to affection, John is not demonstrative. You may have to look elsewhere, in a friend, for example.” She smiled at Amelia. “I’d be happy to be your friend.”

  She had never turned down an offer of friendship, rare as they were, yet she struggled to accept this one.

  You say to love, Lord, but I cannot find it in me to trust this woman. Something is off, and I fear it’s my own worries.

  “You are too kind,” she said aloud, taking up her cup once more.

  “Well, of course.” Caro took up her cup as well, as if the two of them were discussing the weather at Gunter’s sweet shop in London. “We are both Lady Hascot after all. What would be more natural for us than to band together like the sisters the law has made us?”

  Amelia had always wanted siblings—a brother to satisfy her father and a sister to satisfy her heart. She and Caro had both been raised to the expectations of Society, at least; yet she could not see her as a sister.

  For when Caro had guessed Amelia and John had not consummated the marriage, Amelia had caught a look in her eyes before the woman had dropped her gaze. Their lack of closeness pleased Caro. True sisters, and friends, did not take pleasure from a loved one’s pain.

  So Amelia merely offered to fill Caro’s cup again. Tea was such a helpful beverage that way. If her hands trembled a bit on the silver pot, it might be because of the weight and not that she was embarrassed beyond belief that Caro suspected Amelia and John’s marriage was not all it should be. And fussing with the sugar bowl and tongs gave her a moment to compose her face before carefully changing the subject.

  She hoped John and the major might make an appearance—surely Caro would not be so frank in front of them! But Reams reported that they had ridden out to the far pasture. It took surprisingly little to convince Caro to go out after them, for all that she had said she wasn’t much of a rider.

  The two women went to change into their riding habits, Amelia in her comfortable plum wool and Caro in a tailored black ensemble with a top hat wrapped in tulle. They then ventured out to the stables. Two of the grooms came running at the sight of Amelia in the doorway, and she requested that they saddle a horse for each of them.

  “Why not ride Firenza?” Dr. Fletcher asked, coming out of a stall to greet them. Straw stuck to his wool coat, and she was not at all sure of the oily substance sticking to one of his red curls. Caro took one look at him and turned her smile on Amelia.

  “Yes, dear,” she said with a dimple. “I’d love to see this creature you tamed. Perhaps I should give her a try.”

  “I’d like to see that,” Dr. Fletcher said.

  Amelia frowned at him. Caro was very good at wrapping the gentlemen around her little finger—that much was evident by the fawning attitude of Major Kensington. But surely the veterinarian could not have succumbed so far as to suggest the roan. He knew the danger Firenza represented. John had barely allowed Amelia to ride her. The mare would be unlikely to allow a stranger onto her back.

  “I’m afraid Firenza isn’t up to company,” Amelia told Caro. “She’s still recovering from an illness. But here’s a lovely mare that quite complements your habit.”

  Caro brightened as the groom led forward a silver-coated mare named Argentia. Amelia stepped back to allow Caro to mount the horse, and Dr. Fletcher moved in closer.

  “You should have let me put her up on the roan,” he murmured. “That would have shown John the lady’s true colors.”

  Amelia’s brows shot up, but the groom led the dun mare Precious Gem up beside her.

  “Allow me,” Dr. Fletcher said, bending with cupped hands.

  Amelia put her foot in his fingers and pushed herself up into the saddle. As she settled her skirts around her, he put a hand on the girth as if to check it.

  “Watch out for her,” he murmured, gaze on Amelia’s. “From what I’ve heard, she thinks only of her own needs.”

  He stepped back before she could question him, and saluted them both. “Enjoy your ride, ladies.”

  They rode out of the stable and east across the closest pasture. The em
erald hills rose all around them. To their left, the gray stone ridge of Calder Edge braced the blue of the summer sky. The cool air, the sound of birds calling, soothed Amelia’s spirit, and she drank in a deep breath.

  “How many horses does he have on the property?” Caro asked as they approached the gate between this pasture and the next.

  “Twenty,” Amelia replied. “Three still need their mothers, six are yearlings and two-year-olds too young to ride, one is too old, and of course, Firenza and Magnum are not for sale.”

  “So there are five available.”

  She sounded disappointed. Had she hoped for a set of six for a carriage? Didn’t she realize the type of horses John raised?

  “They are mostly hunters, you know,” Amelia explained, reaching out with the handle of her crop to open the gate for them. “Or, failing that, riding horses.”

  “Oh, assuredly,” Caro agreed, following her through the gate. “Great brutes like his Magnum. Every gentleman on the ton is keen to have his like. I won’t be surprised if Major Kensington leaves with a purchase.”

  “Oh, has he mustered out?” Amelia asked, careful to close the gate behind them. John would never forgive her if one of his darlings strayed because she had been careless.

  “He is currently on half pay, awaiting his next assignment. He was a hero at Waterloo, did you know that?” She waited for Amelia to come abreast again. Ahead, the pasture rose toward the hillside that hid the Rotherford mine from view. “He went from captain to major for his bravery. I expect he’ll run for Parliament, if he can impress the right people. Ah, here they come now.”

  Amelia spotted them, as well. John and Major Kensington were riding down the hillside. Though the major looked dapper in his navy coat, the sight of her husband on horseback sent a thrill through her. He and Magnum moved as one. Confidence and power flowed with each fluid stride. Amelia drew in a breath as he and the major reined in beside them.

  “Good afternoon, Amelia, Caro,” Major Kensington said with a tip of his tall-crowned hat.

  John merely eyed them. “Can you handle Argentia, Caro?”